It would have been a nice day to curl up with you. So cloudless, so napful — too cold for someone like me to sunbathe alone. That breeze is just so chilly.
An ant scurries across the grass. A yellow flower is blown by the wind, shaking and wobbling, but resilient against it all. The air buffets me, and the sun's light reaches my arms. Spanish moss sways on a branch ahead.
Maybe I'll rest here. Maybe, as the world is resting, I should too. I will rest on the wind, and, with it, flows the thought of you.
